


An Exercise in Futility

by starsplitter



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Absolute Candor, Character Study, Dark Past, First Time, Getting Together, Healing on Nepenthe, Hugh | Third of Five Lives, Hughnor, It rains like all the time, Light Angst, M/M, Shameless Smut, The Borg, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, xBs (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsplitter/pseuds/starsplitter
Summary: They were alike and yet so different. They were different because over the years Hugh had become jaded with the world, and it made him feel old and tired. Being with Elnor though brought on different feelings: Peacefulness. The vague knowledge that fate might have something good in store for him. Hope.Hugh hadn’t felt hopeful in a long time. He was still a fool though for how easily he had fallen for Elnor, for his lethal grace and his awkward candor.
Relationships: Elnor & Hugh | Third of Five, Elnor/Hugh | Third of Five
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my dearest dorimori02 for being my beta and offering encouragement during the writing process. I wish we could speculate over the relationship between these two in person, but we're currently separated by an ocean.  
> Which sucks.

He remembered everything in hyperrealistic detail: The agonizing pain of having the exo-plating on his body removed, followed by bewilderment and shock after realizing how _human_ he looked.

The first time he experienced vestigial reflexes: his skin puckering into millions of goosebumps, the shiver running down his spine only interrupted by the residual numbness around his neural ports.

The maddening itch of hair growing; patchy at first, then thick and jet black.

The first time he ran his hand over his cheek to feel a couple day’s worth of stubble grate against the palm of his hand like sandpaper.

He marveled at his newfound ability to smile, but was even more surprised about how moisture pricked at the corners of his eyes when he felt at his lowest.

Yet he felt uncomfortable in his _humanity_ , unsure of who he was, unable to determine where he began and the remnants of the others — or rather, what was left of them — ended.

The cacophony of voices had vanished, leaving only distant reminders of the days past. Prior to the days of chaos where they had become uneven and discordant, the voices had been a constant: Synchronized thoughts, an unchanging flow of commands, a continuous rush of memories, some of which may or may not have been his own — a woman sitting on the steps leading up to a house, laughing. Lullabies in a myriad of languages, none of which he understood. The sound of a Vulcan lute echoing in his mind.

Hugh had been disconnected from the Collective for such a long time.

Loneliness remained, a steady dull thrumming that accompanied his daily tasks, looming over everything like a dark veil. Eventually he had learned to live with it, navigating its paths with the same joyless ferocity he devoted to his role as a leader; a role he hadn’t exactly chosen, but rather had been forced to resume after the debacle with Lore.

Lore.

Of all the lessons he’d learned two things stood out: Trust was a fragile thing, and evil oftentimes disguised itself in promises.

Lore had been full of promises: Acceptance. A sense of belonging. A place for Hugh — and all of the other Borg disconnected and without guidance or home — where _being human_ wasn’t a requirement.

Lore believed in the superiority of sentient machines. It made things easier for Hugh, ridding himself of the pressure of becoming something he might or might never achieve to be.

Initially Lore seemed soft-spoken, kind and understanding; but beneath the benevolent façade hid a different persona: cruel, vindictive and spiteful.

He bestowed kindness upon Hugh, offering friendship and guidance only to abruptly take it away without rhyme or reason, leaving Hugh confused and vulnerable, but craving more.

He wanted Lore to be the savior he promised to be.

By the time Hugh had discovered the extent of Lore’s malice it had been too late.

He thought he had seen his fair share of atrocities — both experiencing them directly or through the second-hand recollections of the Collective.

But Lore took things to a different level. Much like the Borg he viewed the individual members of the group that he had _rescued_ as expendable; convenient subjects for his tests.

He lured Hugh and the others with the promise of perfection and left them irreparably damaged, some of them physically, some of them emotionally.

Lore always demanded more: More willingness to participate, more commitment, more sacrifices; but Hugh had nothing left to give.

After Lore’s deactivation, Hugh and the motley group of Borg he now was responsible for headed for Federation space and sent out a distress call. To nobody’s surprise they were as unwanted as ever: The paragon of everything the United Federation of Planets opposed, a mortal enemy to Starfleet and their allies, being Borg wasn’t just a liability — it was worse than that.

And now Hugh and the twenty-odd other members of his ‘crew’ had arrived at their doorstep: Confused, half-starved and in need of refuge.

Citing official logs and records of his time on Enterprise as evidence for their harmlessness, each and every Borg on the small spacecraft had, begrudgingly, been granted asylum eventually, Hugh being the first.

He ended up in San Francisco, where he quickly realized most doctors didn’t want to treat him for one reason or the other: Fear, prejudice, or simply lack of expertise.

Hugh also learned that missing his regular regeneration cycles did not only lead to extreme exhaustion and persistent headaches, but also malfunctioning implants and inflammation around his various ports and nodes.

Reclaiming his humanoid state was a lengthy and painful process marked by several botched procedures, one of them leaving him with a slightly downturned left eye where his ocular implant had been removed.

He met Seven during the time he still looked like a _freak_.

Having arrived in San Francisco just a few years prior he had no idea what the word even meant, but he heard it frequently: Hissed at him in passing on public transportation. Yelled at him by strangers walking on the other side of the road.

He lived in a run-down little apartment in the Tenderloin, where things were sketchy during the day and even more sketchy at night and the Tellarite in the apartment next to his was perhaps the friendliest neighbor in the building.

The knock on the door had woken him from restless sleep and he stumbled into the hallway to peek through the peephole. Hugh found an unfamiliar face at the other side, but it wasn’t hard to recollect who he was dealing with — he might have been disconnected from the Collective for over a decade, but he remembered the designations well enough.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01.

Seven of Nine’s offer had been simple: Extensive treatments at Starfleet Medical in return for information about the Borg. And Hugh didn’t hesitate.

Two days later he found himself at Starfleet HQ’s medical department, where he was introduced to a doctor with questionable bedside manner and penchant for sarcastic remarks, none of which Hugh had been able to process then.

Surprisingly enough “the doctor” — Hugh wasn’t aware he had a name or any other designation — had been very proficient in Borg anatomy and nanotechnology.

Using existing Borg implants he created an artificial eye where Hugh’s ocular device had been and removed the remnants of the servo-armature, replacing it with an artificial limb.

A few weeks later Hugh, having just finished a lukewarm shower in his Tenderloin one-bedroom while the Tellarite next door went off on a profanity-laden rant, looked at his new self in the mirror; letting his fingers trace across his body: The deep cicatrices on his chest where he could feel his thoracic node buried in his sternum. The remnants of implants around his eye, the cortical array above his eyebrow, silent witness to his past as a machine.

He felt the bones of his sacrum, so different from the tritanium alloy his lower vertebrae had been replaced with.

He was still pale but his skin had lost its ashen pallor.

Hugh waited for joy to set in, a sense of relief or maybe the pride of _overcoming_ , but he found himself empty instead. The dull thrumming of loneliness remained, leaving him a stranger in both his body and the universe.

He remembered everything in hyperrealistic detail.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _You have no others. You have no home. We are also lonely._ ”

The rain kept falling, a steady white noise that lulled him back into a light and restless slumber only interrupted by the distant rumble of thunder. The worst of the storm had passed hours ago.

It had been a while since Hugh had seen lightning and felt the pressure changes of a planet’s atmosphere in his implants.

The wound on his neck pulsed and throbbed, pain ramping up again as the hypospray wore off.

It had been roughly a week since Narissa’s attack had almost killed him. One week since he watched in horror as Romulan guards executed a group of xBs right in front of him.

He shrugged the comforter off, shifting positions while groaning in pain. He had failed them.

The Project was supposed to be a safe harbor, and he should have known that trusting the Romulan Free State came at a price.

Of all the things he’d learned in his lifetime this had been one of the most bitter lessons.

Ironically enough it had been a Romulan who saved his life in the end.

If Elnor hadn’t returned for him, Hugh knew he likely would have died, alone in a corridor on the Artifact. And it had been Elnor who had used the spatial trajector to bring them to Nepenthe as well, following Picard and Soji’s trail.

He looked up, studying the ceiling of the large log cabin-style home Will Riker and Deanna Troi — he still thought of her often as _Counselor_ Troi — had so generously welcomed him into, providing him with a place where he could heal.

Upstairs Soji shared a room with Kestra, the couple’s teenage daughter. Picard slept in the guest room downstairs, but knowing the Admiral he probably was as restless as Hugh.

At the opposite end of the room was another bed, the covers pulled back and the pillows pushed to the side. Elnor was gone, surprising given the fact he’d barely left Hugh’s side since he had pledged himself as the xB’s _qalankhkai_.

So much of the young Romulan reminded Hugh of himself some twenty-odd years ago: Elnor’s naivety and wonderment with the world around him. His stubborn defiance, bred out of confusion or perhaps loneliness. The way he spoke candid and freely, not fazed by ambivalences like sarcasm or irony.

His honesty was innocent and simple, but Hugh understood it would be wrong to therefore think of Elnor himself as simplistic — he had been observant enough to recognize that Picard treated Elnor like a child, much like he’d treated Hugh like a child when they had first met.

Elnor was no child, and Hugh understood that beyond his at times almost abrasively candid way of speaking there was more to his _qalankhkai_ than even he knew at this time.

He closed his eyes, listening to the rain pelting against the window.

Hugh could still feel how Elnor had pulled him closer, his hand resting at the nape of his neck; providing comfort and solace after the massacre on the Artifact, the stench of blood and burned flesh surrounding them.

How he had embraced him in what Hugh thought would certainly be the moment of his death. Hugh had been lonely all his life as an individual and the thought of dying alone brought on an ineffable sense of fear. Elnor’s presence had soothed him despite the pain he’d been in.

Maybe that’s why he had thanked him before slipping into unconsciousness.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the creaking of the door opening jolted him awake. Elnor slid into the room, his movements languid and almost perfectly quiet, only interrupted by the soft rustling of his robes.

The first light of day wouldn’t trickle through the curtains for another hour or two, and in the pitch black of their shared quarters Hugh, making use of his artificial eye, saw that Elnor’s hair and clothing were soaked.

“Welcome back,” he said quietly.

This time it was Elnor who jolted, abruptly turning around.

“Forgive me,” Elnor’s voice remained quiet, “it wasn’t my intent to wake you.”

“I was already awake,” Hugh lied, detecting the faintest raise of Elnor’s arched eyebrows.

“I went outside to see and feel the rain,” the Romulan said, pulling his damp hair into a knot, “Vashti is a desert planet and water is scarce. This is the first time in a long time that I have seen a rainstorm.”

Hugh smiled into the darkness of their shared room. The Collective had deprived him of a lot of things, and experiencing these kinds of mundane firsts — rain, the changing of seasons, the break of dawn and nightfall alike — had been both strange and sweet for him.

“And what was it like?”

The briefest of a shy grin ghosted over Elnor’s face.

“It was wet. And a little cold.”

There was wonder in his voice. And in spite of all the atrocities and darkness the last days had brought, Hugh felt light for a second.

***

“I haven’t properly thanked you for saving my life, Elnor. If it hadn’t been for you, I —”

He was cut off by the slightest gesture of a hand.

“It is my purpose to protect you. I am your qalankhkai, Hugh.”

They had taken their breakfast outside to the garden where they sat in the shade, Nepenthe’s sun already bright and relentless. After having spent years on the Artifact, Hugh could already feel that a sunburn would be inevitable.

He watched Elnor as the young Romulan skeptically eyed the variety of foods spread out on the small table in front of them.

“What is it that you’re eating?”

Hugh looked up from his stack of pancakes, and by way of explanation simply pushed the plate toward Elnor, who tried a bite and then carefully put his fork down.

“I believe this food contains sucrose,” he said, turning to his plate of eggs instead, “which is an intoxicant for my species.”

“So, sugar really is poisonous for Romulans?”

What knowledge Hugh had obtained about the notoriously private people had either been second-hand information gathered from his time in the Collective or from medical files of the Borg Reclamation Project.

“I’ve heard that alcohol is poisonous for humans.”

“To varying degrees, yes. It all depends on the quantities consumed. Former Borg — xBs — have a notoriously low tolerance, which makes us great candidates if you’re looking for a cheap date.”

Although that technically wasn’t true for every xB. Seven could drink like a fucking fish.

Hugh gave a lopsided smile, but immediately realized his attempt at a joke fell flat upon seeing Elnor’s confused face.

“I don’t get it. Why would the passing of time be considered inexpensive?”

Hugh studied the young man’s face: His boyish features, dark eyes wide open in honest bewilderment.

They were alike and yet so different. They were different because over the years Hugh had become jaded with the world, and it made him feel old and tired.

Being with Elnor though brought on different feelings: Peacefulness. The vague knowledge that fate might have something good in store for him. Hope.

Hugh hadn’t felt hopeful in a long time. He was still a fool though for how easily he had fallen for Elnor, for his lethal grace and his awkward candor.

“Forget about it,” he made a vague gesture and watched Elnor’s expression shift between puzzlement and frustration.

A moment of silence followed. It was Elnor who broke it.

“I’ve noticed the others are apprehensive about you. They are kind and welcoming, but it is almost as if they don’t fully trust you.”

A pang of something hit Hugh — irritation, anger, maybe grief — and it made him jolt, sending a sharp pain through the bandaged wound on his neck.

There was a point where candor became hurtful bluntness, but he knew better than to blame Elnor. His face must have given it away though.

“Was I in-butting?” Elnor asked.

Hugh felt his anger dissipate to shame. He took breath, struggling for the right words.

“The Borg … are a touchy subject. For a lot of people, but especially for Picard and his former crew. I’m sure he’s told you about his time in the Collective. The last time that Riker and Deanna have seen me I hadn’t undergone reclamation yet.”

“Are they afraid of you?”

“Everyone is afraid of the Borg, Elnor.”

“But you are Hugh.”

And just like that the memories overcame Hugh like a tidal wave and pulled him back in time: The Argolis cluster. Being Third of Five. Beverly and Geordi running tests in sickbay aboard Enterprise.

_“I'm Beverly, he's Geordi, and you.” — “You.”_

_“No, no, wait a minute. That's it. Hugh. What do you think?”_

_“We are Hugh.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dug through the magical world of the Internet for a bit and found several theories indicating sugar is an intoxicant for Vulcans. Seeing that Vulcan and Romulan physiology probably is very similar, I took the liberty to assume that any form of sugar (sucrose/sucralose) likely would get a Romulan drunk.  
> (It's also definitely an idea I would like to explore more, but that's for another time.)


	3. Chapter 3

They sat at the edge of the pier, dipping their bare feet into the crisp, clear water of the pond and watched as Kestra and Will Riker showed Soji how to make flat, smooth rocks skip on the surface of the water.

Hugh watched as Elnor observed the happenings on the other side of the shore with intense fascination, reveling in the early afternoon sun, feeling pleasantly numbed from both the painkillers and the feeling of fullness after their late breakfast.

“Do you want to go for a swim later?” Exuberance resonated in the question, the excitement palpable.

“I can’t swim. And even if I could I think it might be best if I at least waited for the wound to heal,” Hugh replied, aiming for sounding reasonable.

Elnor gave an almost inaudible _Oh_ , his arched eyebrows knitting together.

“Didn’t you learn it as a child?”

“I don’t remember my childhood,” Gods, it sounded miserable no matter how hard he tried to breach the subject naturally and without being overly sentimental, “I was assimilated at an early age and likely spend some time in a maturation chamber.”

“Are you from Earth, like Picard and Will Riker?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I lived in San Francisco for a while though, around the time I started my reclamation process.”

Elnor pulled on his robe, awkwardly shuffling in his spot and much to Hugh’s surprise eventually conjured a small piece of bread from the pocket of his pants. It seemed like there rarely was a time when Elnor was not hungry, and he hid bits and pieces of food as well a he hid the blades he carried.

“Before the supernova I lived on Romulus with my parents. My father taught me how to swim.”

There was a lot that hung in the air, unsaid: The emergency last-minute transports to relocation hubs like Vashti that tore apart entire families due to limited space. Hugh knew without having to pry that Elnor’s parents likely died a long time ago — how else would a boy his age have ended up in the Qowat Milat?

He also knew that beyond his ham-handed charm Elnor was as rootless and lost as himself, and space was even larger and more lonely when you had nowhere to call home.

“I’m sorry,” Hugh said, “about your family.”

Elnor replied with something in between a nod and a shrug.

“It was Picard who had sent me to live with Mother Zani and the other nuns. I owe him a lot, although he did abandon me for a long time.”

Hugh nodded. He was no stranger to Jean-Luc Picard’s unsteady ways: His best laid plans that weren’t always thought through. His (and Starfleet’s) propensity to focus on new projects, forgetting about what’s unfinished.

He himself had encountered a very similar situation when he was sent back to the Collective, his individuality long past the budding stage, wreaking havoc on the hive mind he returned to.

Over the decades his anger had ebbed down and he acknowledged that people often worked in ways he might not fully grasp. And while remembering the incident still hurt, time had softened the sharp edges of grief, making room for understanding.

“Are you going to return to Vashti, once this … thing is over?” Hugh asked, not sure what to call the mess Picard had dragged them into.

“No. I’ve bound myself to your cause, Hugh. I shall go where you go, unless you choose to release me, that is. Or if I find a cause more hopeless than yours,” Elnor replied.

“Although I don’t think there is,” he added bashfully.

Hugh pulled a face, which immediately rewarded him with a sharp, stabbing pain to his injured neck.

“Well, go figure,” he muttered. Go _fucking_ figure.

***

Around nightfall temperatures had dropped significantly, and the first harbingers of an approaching thunderstorm — thick clouds faintly illuminated by lightning — billowed along the peaks of the mountain range.

Inside the perimeter of the round stone fire pit on the patio Hugh watched the flames flicker and crackle, reveling in the warmth radiating from it.

They had gathered around the fire after dinner, enjoying some more wine and each other’s company.

Deanna and Will and Picard entertained Soji, Kestra and Elnor with endless stories about their time on Enterprise and things they’d encountered in the vast empty of space — stories that Kestra likely had heard many times already, judging from her frequent exasperated gasps. From time to time she’d talk to Soji in a strange language Hugh had never encountered before, not even during his time in the Collective.

Elnor sat next to him, cross-legged and wide-eyed, mesmerized by the anecdotes of their hosts.

Beyond the soft comfort of good company and good food, beyond the sheltered safety of the log-cabin home Hugh felt the disconcerting feelings stir in the pit of his stomach: The fear of being discovered by Narissa and her henchmen.

The faint throbbing and pulsing of the cut in his neck, numbed by painkillers, but reminder enough of the perils that lay beyond.

The fear of putting the others in danger: Picard, the Riker-Troi household, Soji.

Elnor.

Elnor who had selflessly protected and pledged himself to him, because there was no cause more hopeless than his.

One by one the others turned in, leaving only him and Elnor around the fire, now burned down to a pile of glowing embers.

“You are afraid,” Elnor said.

Hugh watched the smoldering glow slowly dying. He looked up, watching the billowing clouds creep closer, his artificial eye illuminating them in a pale green tinge; a reminder of his semi-mechanical past.

“There is a lot to be afraid of, Elnor.”

“Sem n'hak kon,” Elnor replied quietly, syllables flowing quickly enough for the translator to stumble, leaving Hugh with a bunch of words he couldn’t decipher.

“I’m sorry?”

“It means ‘Now is the only moment’,” Elnor said, “worrying will not help you. It will only make things worse.”

“I know.”

Hugh rubbed the bridge of his nose. The remnants of his ocular implant tingled, a faint pulsing sensation spreading to his cortical node as if announcing the nearing storm.

“But there is so much good to worry about. I want all of them to be safe — Picard, the Rikers, Soji. You.”

He wondered what it was about Elnor that made speaking candidly, opening himself up so easy.

The Romulan got up and offered his outstretched hand, pulling Hugh up like he had done before on the Artifact. He felt Elnor’s hand at the nape of his neck and the warmth of his breath on his face and for a moment they remained, quietly looking at each other in the dark.

Elnor’s gaze held an unspoken question and Hugh felt a chill of anticipation run down his spine as he nodded, not entirely certain what he was agreeing to.

Elnor awkwardly bent down, resting is forehead against Hugh’s.

“Sem n'hak kon,” he muttered, his voice but a whisper.

“Now,” Hugh replied, not sure why he even said it.


	4. Chapter 4

In the mirror above the sink of the small attached bathroom he watched Elnor, sitting on the bed pulling a comb through his hair. They had returned inside when the winds had picked up, snuffing the last remaining glow of the embers in the fire pit.

Outside the torrential downpour barraged on, increasing and decreasing in its intensity with the shifting of the storm.

Hugh carefully removed the bandage over the wound on his neck, inspecting the healing process. Despite multiple uses of a dermal regenerator the cut was still scabbed over, held together by surgical tape taken from one of the med kits in the house.

Neither of them had any medical training beyond basic first aid skills. The scar was uneven and bulging, and likely would remain this way — Hugh knew a thing or two about healing after his many extensive surgeries. At least his remaining nanoprobes would keep the wound from getting infected.

In the mirror, Elnor’s gaze met his.

“Do you want my help?” He got up from the bed.

Hugh shook his head.

“It is fine. I got it.”

He tried a faint smile to soften the brashness with which the words had come out, Elnor’s arched eyebrows signaling both frustration and an unspoken query.

Even after all these years Hugh found the subject of touch to be a complicated issue. Friendship and intimacy had been irrelevant in the collective, so there simply had been no need for physical closeness. Now that he had become more human than he’d ever remembered, the concept of seeking out and receiving any form of somatic connection remained something he craved and yet felt apprehensive about. There was a part of him that would always think of himself as the _freak_ strangers accused him of being.

Carefully changing the surgical tape and the bandage he looked at his reflection once more: The scar along where his ocular implant had been, the iridescent reflection of his artificial eye when he shifted his head ever so slightly, his hand and forearm that had replaced the robotic tool a long time ago.

Hugh felt tired and old, like he had lived aeons — a semi-mechanical heap of bones, tissue and tritanium alloy, with leftover nanoprobes coursing in his bloodstream.

Maybe it was the exhaustion of the last weeks catching up with him. Or maybe it was the endeavor of the Reclamation Project itself, idealistic and futile at once, that had drained him.

He didn’t look in the mirror but knew nevertheless that Elnor’s eyes were on him.

“Tell me about Vashti,” Hugh said softly.

And Elnor spoke, silently and full of longing: About the dry, scorching heat and the relentless sun, the spice markets and the times he stole fruits and vegetables from the vendor stands as a child. About Mother Zani, about life in the House of Truth. About the kilns and how he learned to stoke up the fires, and that patience is best learned from proofing dough.

About Picard reading him _The Three Musketeers_ when Elnor was a young boy, and how he had abruptly left and not returned for fourteen years.

Hugh had sat down next to him on the bed, looking at Elnor with narrowed eyes; his high cheekbones and golden skin, long limbs and slender frame, his dark, lustrous hair swaying as he moved.

The tiredness had seeped into Hugh’s bones, his body heavy with impeding sleep.

As he sank backwards he felt Elnor’s arms around him, and with that Hugh was swept away by a tidal wave of half-forgotten things: The steady flow of a cacophony of voices and languages. Repeating his new name over and over, the metallic rasp of the subvocal processor distorting the sound of his voice.

Elnor, sitting at his bedside as Hugh drifted in and out of consciousness on his first day on Nepenthe, walking the fine line between life and death; Elnor, who had cleaned Hugh’s blood-crusted body and brushed his hair.

Elnor with his unwavering commitment that promised safety, protection, friendship and — Hugh tried not to entertain the thought too much — maybe more than that.

He wondered if this kind of commitment contradicted the Qowat Milat’s mantra of a promise being a prison.

His thought process was interrupted by sleep finally claiming him, the rain still pelting against the window and Elnor quietly talking to him in Rihan.

***

The rain had finally stopped when he awoke hours later. Through the open curtains Hugh could see fog wafting, milky layers obscuring the ragged peaks of the mountain ranges.

The temperatures outside were rising as the pitch black of night turned to twilight, the wooden beams of the house creaking.

Next to him lay Elnor, warm with sleep and his face mostly obscured by a tangled mess of hair.

The narrow bed wasn’t intended to be shared and yet they’d made do — re-arranging their bodies multiple times to keep each other comfortable as they shifted and turned during the night.

Hugh felt a shiver creep over his skin, up and down his body, where it settled comfortably around the lower region of his stomach.

Desire wasn’t something Hugh easily gave in to. Surrendering his body to someone meant to be vulnerable, and he had learned that not everyone appreciated this kind of gift — perhaps this had been the second most painful lesson after what had happened under Lore’s brief but violent rule.

During his life as a drone sex had been irrelevant and abstract: Snippets of information gathered through assimilation, collateral knowledge that came with the biological and technological distinctiveness acquired.

It had been in his early years in San Francisco that Hugh realized that his unfinished, half-machine, half-human looks drew in a certain— mostly male — crowd that was very secretive about their preferences.

It had also been in these years that he’d shed the last of his naïveté, curating the careful wariness he approached most people with these days.

There was no need to be this guarded when he was with Elnor.

Hugh didn’t flinch, although he definitely hadn’t expected Elnor to suddenly open his eyes and look at him. For a moment they remained, quietly studying each other in the almost-darkness of the early morning.

He listened to the sounds outside: a faint warbling of maybe a crepuscular bird, the chirring and hissing of insects. Nepenthe’s moons hung low in the sky, pale giants on tilted axes illuminating the edges of the mountain range.

Hugh didn’t want to be like the men he had encountered when he had been as old as Elnor was now. They had plundered his body without consideration, taking without giving back; something he had accepted then because he didn’t know better.

Whatever happened here would not be initiated by him — he would leave the choice up to Elnor.

Hugh watched as the Romulan pushed himself up on his elbow, swiping the curtain of dark hair out of his face and tucking it behind his pointed ear.

He had taken his shirt off to sleep, the skin on his bare chest golden and unblemished, so different from Hugh’s. He let his gaze wander over Elnor’s slender hands and the freckle on his chin. Elnor’s mouth was slightly agape and Hugh realized the young man’s breath had quickened, intensifying the spark of desire he felt.

For a moment he expected Elnor to rise from the bed and leave as he sat up, but then the Romulan’s expression changed and Hugh witnessed apprehension and shyness turn to boyish determination. Hugh followed suit, awkwardly shifting into a sitting position and pushing down the blanket that restricted his movements.

He closed his eyes, feeling Elnor’s fingertips trace along his lips and jaw, eliciting a soft sigh Hugh didn’t manage to stifle.

“I have never done anything like this. With anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever felt for someone like I feel for you,” Elnor whispered and Hugh felt a flutter pulse in his body, first in his stomach and then chasing lower.

“You are important to me,” Hugh replied, but really he meant something else — something that went far beyond importance, something he didn’t dare to speak of just yet.

“So much more important than I can put into words.”

Elnor looked at him, kindness and challenge in his expression.

“Then show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Now that the dumpster fire that was 2020 is over, here's hoping that this upcoming year will be kind to each and every one of us.  
> To those who have left comments and kudos, I truly appreciate it - thank you, thank you :)  
> Stay safe and healthy, y'all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to upload this yesterday but AO3 was experiencing some technical difficulties, so I am trying again this morning.
> 
> This took a bit longer to write than I expected. It's also the longest smut I've ever written, and I'm probably going to hell for this or at least take a detour to purgatory, provided both of these things exist. (I'd also like to point out there's gonna be more of this, but I felt the need to break it up somewhere. Sorry!)
> 
> I should probably also thank Fanlore - and specifically Gayle F - here, since they were a great source for a variety of speculations about Vulcan genitalia (I LOVE the Internet!).   
> Again, I figured Romulan/Vulcan anatomy and physiology might be similar.   
> I hope you enjoy!

Hugh wanted to be gentle with Elnor, mainly to give him time to change his mind if he chose to do so, but also because his own insecurity stung and burned.

The first kiss he pressed to Elnor’s lips was gentle, too — chaste, demure and almost fleeting — and when he detected no objection or doubt in Elnor’s face he leaned in once more. This time, much to his surprise, Elnor’s lips were soft and open, the tip of his tongue reaching out to touch Hugh’s.

There was a point where instinct vanquished inexperience, this Hugh had learned a long time ago. He remembered it now more than ever when he felt Elnor against him, warm and eager.

Hugh skimmed his hands over Elnor’s bare chest and back as they kissed; open-mouthed, deliberate kisses — wetter than the ones he had exchanged with the men that had remained strangers to him. Kisses that spoke of pent-up desire and longing.

When he let his fingertips trace over Elnor’s nipples he felt him shudder. It was Elnor who pulled away.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hugh asked.

“I didn’t know this would feel so good,” Elnor replied, his face flushed with a pale green tinge, lips swollen and eyes glossed over.

Hugh let his fingers trace along Elnor’s high cheekbones, swiping a stray strand of hair out of his face, marveling at the younger man’s beauty.

“I thought about this, many times,” Elnor continued, the candid confession easily rolling off his tongue, “what you would taste like, feel like. It is different from what I imagined.”

Hugh cocked his head slightly: a small and abrupt, almost robotic movement, relic of his past as Borg.

“How so?”

Elnor gave a shy, faintly embarrassed smile.

“It is real. And I am not certain I am doing this right.”

Hugh cupped Elnor’s face with both hands, feeling the silkiness of Elnor’s hair against his skin as he pulled their foreheads together like Elnor had done on the previous day.

“There is no wrong as long as it feels good. Everything else is a learning curve. You’ll be fine.” Hugh smiled.

It had been a long time that he had felt the same initial insecurities — the timidity of opening up, the fear of botching things, the shame he felt when looking at his scarred body.

Most of these insecurities had faded over time, with the exception of how he felt about the traces his reclamation had left.

He kissed Elnor again, more demanding this time and felt the Romulan respond in kind.

Outside the warbling and hissing of the nocturnal creatures became fainter; pale daylight softened by fog slowly trickling in through the windows.

Hugh let his hands wander over Elnor’s chest once more, softly rubbing his lover’s nipples — _lover_ , he thought, a mix of rapture and titillation flooding him — and Elnor gasped and whined, his movements frantic.

Elnor heedlessly pulled on Hugh’s teeshirt as their mouths met once more, this time so impetuously their teeth scraped together. When Elnor’s hand came dangerously close to bumping against the bandage on his neck, Hugh stilled the young man’s hand and held it against the spot on his sternum where his thoracic node protruded from the bone.

“There’s no need to rush this. I know it’s easy to get carried away,” he said softly.

Elnor nodded, his breath heavy and hair tangled, untamed desire and bashfulness meeting in his gaze.

Pushing Elnor’s hand down, Hugh deliberately and slowly took off his teeshirt, watching Elnor as he did. Revealing himself like this took courage, but there was a certain kind of thrill that came with offering his body like he did now. And while the reclamation process had left large portions of his skin destroyed, hypertrophic scar upon hypertrophic scar, Hugh sensed somewhere deep within that time otherwise had been kind to him.

When Elnor reached out to touch him Hugh noticed his hands were trembling.

This time the young man was more mindful of the injury on Hugh’s neck when he wrapped his slender arms around Hugh’s shoulders, one hand resting on the nape of Hugh’s neck, warm and familiar.

Hugh understood that resisting what Elnor offered him was a futile endeavor — from the moment they met he had been intrigued, and intrigue had turned into whatever pulsed and sparked between them in this very moment.

He traced along the slope where Elnor’s neck and shoulder met with soft, open-mouthed kisses and felt Elnor’s trapezius flex as he moved his head. Hugh savored the vaguely saline taste of his skin, the small, high-pitched noises Elnor made and the way he smelled: the slightly stale fragrance of skin warmed by sheets, the musk of his sweat and the faint scent of soap that lingered in his hair.

When he felt the Romulan’s hands trace down his back, touching the neural ports around the lower end of his spine, it was Hugh who let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp.

“That feels … so good,” Hugh said, surprised by his sudden lack of eloquence.

Elnor watched him, heavy-lidded and mouth agape as he repeated the motion, pulling Hugh’s body closer to his while doing so; almost as if his assertiveness and confidence had increased alongside his intensifying arousal.

He felt Elnor tug on the waistband of his pajama bottoms, his fingers sliding beyond and further down to the line where his abdominals and obliques met.

“I want to be closer to you,” Elnor whispered against Hugh’s temple, “I want to know what you feel like.”

Hugh thought he’d be used to Elnor’s candid ways of speaking by now and yet hearing these words felt electrifying. There was also fear: that of being too hasty, destroying the fragile thing developing between them that went far beyond the simple satisfaction of primal urges.

He sank back, awkwardly pulling Elnor down with him in the tight space of their shared bed, the curtain of Elnor’s black hair brushing over his skin; until they lay chest to chest and groin to groin, the heat almost too much for Hugh to bear.

He couldn’t remember the last time he craved someone as much as he craved Elnor, his slender limbs and taut, sinewy body, his kind and gentle soul.

Their mouths met once more, hungry and fast this time and Hugh didn’t hesitate when the felt Elnor’s fingers tugging on the drawstring of his pajama pants again. With a swift motion he pushed Elnor off of him, giving himself enough room to maneuver as he arched his back and shuffled his body just enough to shuck off the last of his clothing, feeling his cock spring free. Hugh also couldn’t remember the last time he was this aroused.

In the low light of dawn he watched Elnor as he shyly took in what Hugh had laid bare, giving his lover time to process.

“Your body is beautiful,” he heard Elnor say, “and your soul is, too.”

Something deep within Hugh protested — he had never thought of himself that way — creating the urge to intervene, but instead he shoved the thought aside. There was no point in arguing with someone whose first principle it was to speak the truth and only the truth.

“So are you,” he whispered instead, letting his fingers run along the sharp outlines of Elnor’s jaw, the soft slope of his nose and across his open lips. To his surprise he felt Elnor’s tongue flick against the pad of his thumb, the unexpected gesture sending a flutter through his body.

There was something in the way Elnor looked at him that left little doubt he thoroughly enjoyed the effect it had on the xB. Hugh certainly hadn’t been this brave and valiant when he gathered his first experiences, and Elnor revealing this side of his personality in small glimpses filled him with excitement and anticipation.

Turning over he tugged on the waist sash that fastened Elnor’s loose-fitting pants, his movements uncoordinated and clumsy. He felt Elnor slide down his pants and undergarments in one languid motion, revealing himself to Hugh; long limbs and olive skin in stark contrast to Hugh’s pale, smaller frame.

For a moment they lay side by side studying each other, fingers intertwined and breaths heavy. Eventually Hugh broke the silence.

“What is it that you want to do?”

Elnor looked at him, wide-eyed and timid, and without words simply pulled Hugh into a searing kiss. He felt Elnor’s hands skim over his chest, palming his reconstructed nipples, his thoracic node and sliding down across his belly. Hugh instinctively opened his legs, letting out a soft, breathless moan when Elnor slowly let his hand glide over the dark thatch of his pubic hair and lower to the base of his cock.

Moments later he felt Elnor pumping his erection in shy, almost too-tender strokes. The moans that escaped Hugh’s throat this time were louder than the previous ones.

“I want you to touch me as well,” Elnor said as he broke the kiss, his face flushed and Hugh thought he detected a hint of embarrassment. He didn’t mind — sometimes being candid was difficult, and especially in delicate moments like these uneasiness came with the uncharted territory.

He took in Elnor’s body: the dark nipples, the gossamer fuzz trailing from his navel to his cock and the two ridges right below the tip.

The Collective had provided Hugh with an extensive knowledge of the physique of various alien species, anatomical as well as physiological; and yet he felt fascination and curiosity as he reached out to let his hand glide over Elnor’s erection. No hive mind could have prepared him for feeling and experiencing the real thing: the velvety skin and the way his fingers bumped over the double glans. He felt his fingers glide over the ridges as he gave Elnor’s cock a slow, firm stroke and shushed the rather loud sigh that escaped the young man by placing a shy kiss on Elnor’s bottom lip.

“We should probably try to stay quiet,” Hugh said, dazedly grinning, enveloped by a fog of titillation.

He heard Elnor give a grunt of agreement as he groped and pawed at Hugh’s hip to push their bodies closer together, opening his lips further in an unspoken invitation and Hugh complied. Elnor’s hand return to Hugh’s erection and for a second his own rhythm faltered as he felt Elnor’s strokes become firmer, his movements more unguarded — the last of his shyness dissipating.

Maneuvering in the crammed space of the bed was difficult, irritation rising in Hugh the more aroused he became. He wanted to be closer to Elnor; wanted to explore every inch of skin and experience the soft yield of Elnor’s body to his cock. Hugh also knew that it wasn’t time for this yet, as much as he wished it to be and neither of them were ready; both physically as well as emotionally.

More forceful than he needed to Hugh pushed Elnor’s hand away from his straining erection and reached past Elnor’s cock and balls, motioning him to spread his legs comfortably to give him better access. He felt the patch of tender skin between Elnor’s scrotum and anus and gave it a couple of tentative strokes, pleased to find that this part of Romulan anatomy really was identical to that of humans.

He heard Elnor’s breath hitch, a whispered flow of Rihan tumbling out of his mouth so rapidly no universal translator could keep up.

“Is it ok if I continue to …,” Hugh glanced up, the question dying on his lips as Elnor eagerly nodded, eyes closed and face even more flushed now, his nails digging into the skin of Hugh’s upper arm.

As he gently rubbed his fingers once more over Elnor’s taint he felt the young man’s thighs tremble, the deliciously soft, long moan he let out the only sound filling the room.

Pressing down gently Hugh watched as Elnor threw his head back onto the pillow, unguarded and vulnerable as he surrendered.

Hugh knew Elnor was so close now and likely wouldn’t last much longer. He knew because he had been there before, delirious with desire and simultaneously mortified how quickly climax had overtaken him then.

He gently palmed Elnor’s tight, firm balls and let his hand wander back up to his lover's erection, noticing the milky drops of pre-cum beading at the tip. Hugh wasn’t prepared for the way Elnor gracelessly pulled their heads together once more; foreheads bumping, lips meeting in a wet, messy kiss as Hugh pumped Elnor’s cock, faster and harder now than he had initially had intended to.

He watched Elnor arch his back, an almost pained expression on his face as he let out a low, breathless groan and not long after Hugh felt the warm, acrid flood of semen spilling over his hand — leaving Hugh with a vague sense of victory and reassurance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who's been so patient with me uploading this chapter! Comments, criticism and kudos are always very much appreciated.

Hugh felt Elnor’s short, shallow gasps and the way his body quivered until he went limp against him, the scent of musky skin and semen hanging heavy in the small space of their bedroom.

Hugh swiped a few strands of hair dampened by sweat from Elnor’s face, tucking them behind the peaked ear before he let his hand wander over Elnor’s temple, his cheek and further down along the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the pulse of Elnor’s rapid heartbeat as he caressed his skin. It seemed, Hugh thought, as if time had ground to a halt; their bed a sacred space illuminated by the warm glow of early morning light.

Deep in his lower belly his own arousal pulsed and fluttered, gentle reminder of urges needing to be relieved.

Hugh decided it wasn’t his place to ask a favor of Elnor in this very moment, as much as he craved to be touched. First times could be confusing and overwhelming, and he wanted to give Elnor enough space to sort out his thoughts if he chose to do so. Hugh hadn’t been granted this kind of gentleness when he had been Elnor’s age, and only years later had he realized how much it had hurt him. Hugh didn’t want the same for Elnor.

He could always take care of his own needs later.

Seconds later Elnor finally opened his eyes to sneak a glance at him through heavy lids, his gaze cloudy and a weak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, though Hugh definitely detected a hint of mischievousness in it.

Bowing his head to meet Hugh’s, Elnor let his lips trace over Hugh’s forehead, over to the implants around his eye and down to his neck.

“I didn’t expect what we did would feel so different from the times I touched myself,” Elnor said, his demeanor bashful and almost timid again, “but so much better.”

There was a brief flicker of a mental image that shot through Hugh’s mind — he filed it away as a subject he’d like to breach at another point in time, provided Elnor was ready.

Hugh tilted his head backwards; relishing the feeling of the young man’s body against his, heavy-limbed and warmed by post-coital glow.

“I want to make you feel the same way you made me feel, if that is what you want,” Hugh watched as Elnor rolled onto his back, his slender hand quickly scrubbing over his face to brush away hair or sweat or maybe tiredness.

“You don’t have to,” Hugh replied but felt the almost painful rush of concupiscence, brought on by Elnor’s soft-spoken words.

He felt Elnor’s hand on the base of his skull, gently pulling Hugh closer, his mouth wet and warm against Hugh’s.

“But I want to,” there was a hint of defiance in the way Elnor looked at him, the kind of defiance that sprung from being dismissed or not taken seriously.

Hugh remembered the feeling, and it had taken him a long time to temper the fierce stubbornness and anger that had accompanied it. Getting older perhaps had contributed to mellowing these outbursts, although sometimes he wondered if he simply had become passive and numb.

He caressed Elnor’s cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and felt the tension in Elnor’s body slowly ease, making way for the soft vulnerability Hugh had sensed before.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Hugh cautiously teased and Elnor grinned, his nose crinkled and eyes almost closed.

His fingertips ghosted over Hugh’s back, playful at first and then slowly becoming more determined as they found their way to the two neural ports on each side of Hugh’s spine. Hugh had no idea why this felt so good, why it made him squirm and sigh like it did, but he felt his thoughts becoming more and more incoherent as Elnor stroked the sensitive spots, his lips warm on Hugh’s neck.

He rutted clumsily against Elnor’s body, trying to get closer where there was nowhere closer to be, and felt the soft huff of Elnor’s laugh warm against his skin.

When Elnor’s hand wandered down, fingers tentatively delving into the cleft below; he felt a jolt of surprise, desire and mild scandalization run through his body.

Hugh hadn’t expected Elnor to be so inhibited, but maybe this was part of Absolute Candor, too. Gently guiding Elnor’s hand to his pulsing cock, Hugh groaned when his lover finally touched him.

“You should probably try to stay quiet,” Elnor admonished, fully serious as he did so.

Hugh’s laughter escaped as a brief snort. Whoever was awake in the house likely already had an inkling about what occurred in the small space behind the closed door of their bedroom, but there was certainly no need to be careless.

He felt Elnor’s hand trace upward along his spine and over his neural ports again, fingers ghosting, then felt the sensation of calloused fingertips on his cock; the faint, soft sound of flesh moving against flesh.

Hugh rolled onto his back, pulling Elnor with him with bodily strength and watched Elnor’s eyes widen briefly with surprise as his rhythm faltered. Even after all these years having reclaimed his humanity, his force and energy remained through and through that of a Borg.

Elnor shifted positions, pushing himself up on one elbow and a curtain of dark hair swept over Hugh’s face as Elnor bent down for a kiss, his teeth nipping at Hugh’s lower lip.

He felt a tingling sensation spread in his lower belly, the familiar coiling of his insides as climax approached. Hugh knew he wouldn’t last long.

He hadn’t been touched in a long time to begin with, but witnessing Elnor’s unbridled passion and his playful sensuality had only brought him closer to the edge.

Elnor worked him in long strokes, watching Hugh intently, his eyes narrowed. Hugh let his hand wander over the broad expanse of Elnor’s shoulders, feeling the muscles flex and tense.

Much to Hugh’s dismay his voice pitched as he moaned, as an incoherent jumble of “don’t stop; please, please” mixed with words of encouragement fell from his mouth and his fingernails dug into Elnor’s skin.

Release came quick and forceful, a searing shiver spreading from his groin, engulfing his entire body. Hugh stilled Elnor’s eager hand and felt the warm stickiness between them, a vague sense of embarrassment following — this was not their bed, not their home, and yet it had provided them with so much.

He gasped, feeling the residual fluttering of his orgasm slowly fade. Behind it lay the sleepy, dazed feeling of afterglow.

This, Hugh concluded, had been Elnor’s first experience, but it was also the first time that he, Hugh, experienced _loving_ someone as he released, quivering with the force of his climax and his feelings.

He sank into Elnor’s waiting arms, enveloped by warmth and a sense of safety: A welcome reprieve in an unkind and dangerous world.

There was so much Hugh wanted to say but the flood of words died in his throat. None of it would have come close to describe the magnitude of what he felt anyway.

Instead he let his fingers run over Elnor’s soft hair, the upward slope of his ear and the arched shape of his eyebrows; trying to calm his ragged breath in short gasps.

Their mouths met once more, gentler this time, a kiss meant to create comfort and reassurance instead of arousal.

“This …,” Hugh started, but changed his mind halfway through forming the sentence, instead finding himself irresolutely searching for words.

“Did it feel good for you?” Elnor asked, the candor in his voice leaving no room for Hugh to hide behind half-truths.

“It did. So very much. Because …,” Hugh paused. “I wanted to experience this with you. This meant a lot to me. Because you matter to me.”

His gaze fell and he wondered if the confession was too early, too much for Elnor who perhaps needed time to process what had happened in the small hours of the day.

Instead Elnor smiled at him, a hint of something in his expression that made him seem wise beyond his years and simultaneously pure and innocent, as if he was a young boy.

“You worry so much, e’lev.”

The affection in Elnor’s words — an attempt to soothe as well as a confession — sent the briefest jolt of surprise through Hugh, soon making way for a kind of blissful tranquility he’d rarely ever felt before; calming his volatile thoughts and, for a moment, repelling the darkness that inhabited the depths of his mind.


End file.
